


Black-Letter Days

by VaguelyCreativeName



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Community: HPFT, F/M, Family, First War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VaguelyCreativeName/pseuds/VaguelyCreativeName
Summary: "If she wants to be alone, Lily won’t have gone to any of their usual haunts, or anywhere busy, which quickly rules out all of their friends’ homes, his parents’ old house, or even Hogsmeade. James knows that if Lily doesn’t want to be found, it will almost certainly be impossible for him to detect her. He can only hope others are similarly unsuccessful. "James and Lily have just been told that their little boy may be destined to end the war his parents have been fighting in for years. Neither of them takes it well.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Black-Letter Days

James watches Dumbledore’s back retreating down the stairwell of the apartment building that houses the Potters’ flat. Conveniently, the old man disapparates before he turns the corner, so at least James doesn’t have to face him again. Though that probably suits him just fine, disposing of the mess and dropping it on James and Lily’s doorstep instead. He used to admire his former headmaster, James did, like him, even, but with each passing day since James left school, these feelings turn sour. Sure, Albus Dumbledore is the undisputed spearhead of the resistance as well as an insanely powerful wizard; naturally, he still commands a great deal of respect. But with his own increasing involvement in the Order, James takes note of the professor primarily through his absence. Dumbledore may be the mastermind of their operation, but he’s hardly ever at the heart of it, preferring instead the comfort of his quarters at Hogwarts while James, his friends, and a handful of other outcasts daily risk their lives in battle or on risky, haphazardly planned infiltration missions. Hell, even his pregnant wife is coerced into fighting while Dumbledore does what, exactly? Sit in his office and write letters? It’s becoming more and more difficult not to resent the man, especially if every time James does see him invariably leads to more dangers flung his way, threats he’s forced to either dodge or deal with, with little assistance from their so-called leader. A visit from Dumbledore is a more powerful omen than even the Grim, James had joked, a harbinger of doom clad habitually in lilac, delivering missions alongside death warrants. He wishes he hadn’t made that comparison now. Neither James nor Lily ever put much stock in Divination, but James can’t help but wonder if he wasn’t tempting fate, drawing that imprudent connection. Regardless, he knows they’ve just shouldered the biggest target – though, perhaps, they’ve had it longer, Dumbledore didn’t say when – and it’s all too appealing to blame the messenger.

The messenger of a prophecy more terrifying than anything the war had thrown their way yet. A prophecy concerning their unborn child, a prophecy conveniently made to Dumbledore himself, a prophecy that had spread – according to anonymous, but trustworthy sources – to the Great Git Himself and back again to old Dumbles before it ever reached his or Lily’s ears. James had been so pleased when they first found out Lily was pregnant; having grown up as an only child to immensely loving but old and sickly parents, he’d always wanted a big family, and if that meant getting started in the middle of a war, so be it. For better or worse, they had vowed, and up until that very morning, James could have only imagined ways in which their little one would improve their lives. James dismisses the horrific thought that Baby Potter might now not change their lives for the better before it has even fully formed. They had been excited before and would bloody well continue to be, Dumbledore and his depressing news be damned. “Born to those who have thrice defied him”, their former headmaster had explained. He reckons he and Lily had an excellent track record when it came to spitting Lord What’s-his-name right in his ugly face, so James sees no reason why they shouldn’t keep it up.

Right now, though, James has more pressing worries. He needs to make sure his wife is safe. Preferably happy, too, but he knows that’s unrealistic. Lily’s always had the tendency to isolate herself when upset, which would have been fine if they were ordinary people but is incredibly dangerous in their case. Obviously, Lily can take care of herself, better than he could, actually, but James is sickened by the thought of Death Eaters targeting Lily specifically, lying in ambush to attack her when she’s at her most vulnerable. Death Eaters hunt in packs, and while his wife can easily hold her own against a pair of those bastards, three of them, even, James needs to be there beside her, fighting, for both her safety and his sanity. Finding her is now his first priority.

He finally tears his gaze from the empty stairwell and re-enters their flat. The living room is empty, teacups barely touched sitting abandoned on the coffee table. He’d even gotten out the nice biscuits. The kitchen, too, lies empty. So does the bathroom, which had been his best shot at finding Lily within their own home. Now frantic, he only spares a perfunctory glance for their bedroom before turning to their spare room turned nursery. Only last week, they’d painted the walls, a bright sunshine yellow. Lost labour now they’d need to move. Focus. Now’s not the time for self-pity. A quick Homenum Revelio indicates his as the only human presence, a follow-up trace reading shows Lily disapparated. With the amount of magical residue, James knows she must have gone far, left London at least, but he’s too inexperienced to get an exact distance. In this moment, James hates magic. Hates it for its stubborn nature, its unwillingness to cooperate. Hates it for being imprecise and impossible to interpret. Where would Lily have gone? He’s pacing the room now, tugging at his hair until it hurts. If she wants to be alone, Lily won’t have gone to any of their usual haunts, or anywhere busy, which quickly rules out all of their friends’ homes, his parents’ old house, or even Hogsmeade. James knows that if Lily doesn’t want to be found, it will almost certainly be impossible for him to detect her. He can only hope others are similarly unsuccessful. Sending a Patronus is out of the question; what if she is unsafe, and his message reveals her presence? He hates feeling this helpless, can’t bear to remain inactive at home, while Lily is out there.

So James apparates to the Shrieking Shack, all the while knowing he won’t find his wife there, runs down to the village, heart beating fast and sweat running down his back. He apparates to the house he grew up in, which has been standing empty for months and clearly hasn’t seen any visitors since his Dad died, and certainly no Lily. With every stop, his anxiety heightens, nausea climbing up his body from the pit of his stomach. He apparates to Cokeworth, and then again all over Lily’s hometown, swapping derelict playgrounds for abandoned libraries, appearing out of thin air in the graveyard. Apart from him, there is only one other living soul present, a woman not much older than him, but still no sign of his wife. James can taste bile in the back of his throat, his breathing short. Again, he apparates, knocking on the door of John Evans’ house until his knuckles ache although he knows Lily’s father must still be at work. He turns on the spot once more, envisioning the trail they walked that autumn, when they went hiking. This time, the compression of his body is too much for James, he lands uncomfortably on all fours, scraping his hands and knees, retching. He can’t be a pretty sight, heaving up the contents of his gut, splattering his jeans in vomit and spit. James stays doubled over for a while, but eventually manages to get up, though he feels shaky still. This headless search isn’t getting him anywhere, as he had suspected. He tries to remember what his friends are doing today, to get the rotation straight in his head. Sirius and Dorcas are shadowing Avery; Remus is still stuck at the werewolf camp; Peter, Fab, and Gid are doing surveillance. He can’t bring himself to deal with Mad-Eye and his ceaseless questioning right now. No-one has seen Benjy Fenwick in nearly a week. Frank and Alice –

Must be going through the same thing as he and Lily are, Dumbledore’s likely been to see them already. And they had been so excited, too. It takes an unbelievable amount of effort, but finally manages to conjure a Patronus.

“Go see Alice and Frank,” he instructs it. “Tell them I’m so sorry, and that we need to talk about this. Ask if they’ve seen Lily.” The stag nods, turns, and gallops off into nothingness. James feels more alone, and colder than he did before.

He has to get back to the flat. That’s where Lily will return to eventually, and he has to be there when she does. Once more he apparates, and lands in his kitchen, gagging again, but managing to stay on his feet this time. The next few hours are filled with redundant busy-work, and waves of dread. He changes his sick-stained trousers and washes a load of laundry. He picks up the cups in the living room, does the washing-up, and wipes down the kitchen counter. His frenzy is interrupted only by the appearance of a silvery heron, and Alice’s voice tries to comfort him, affirms they’ll meet soon, but also tells him that, no, neither she nor Frank have seen Lily. He spends ages pacing in the living room, from the bookshelf, to the sofa, to the fireplace and back again, so long he’s certain he’s left tracks in the floor. James is just about to start mopping the bathroom floor when he hears the distinct pop of apparition and runs to the living room, where he finds his wife, tear-stained but determined.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, but James only shakes his head and hugs her fiercely. Lily is here. She’s unhurt. She is safe.

“I shouldn’t have run off,” she continues, “but I’m here now.”

Nodding, James pulls her down onto the sofa where they sit curled up side by side for a long while.

“What are we going to do, Lily?”

“I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out, eventually.”

“Lily, this child, our little boy, he –”

“Might have ‘the power to vanquish the Dark Lord’, yeah. And that scares me. It frightens me to no end that he’ll be born three months from now and already be at the top of Voldemort’s hit list. He won’t be able to protect himself, and I panic every time I think about it.”

“Merlin, I know. So do I. But we’re capable, we’re good fighters, and we have to put our all into keeping him safe. Please, can you promise you won’t run off again? Because Death Eaters fight dirty, Lily, and I need to be there for you as back up.”

Lily looks down at her hands, colour rising to her cheeks, and nods. “I promise,” she says, “I won’t leave like that again, ever, but I felt so overwhelmed and I –”

“You don’t need to justify yourself; I’m not angry.” They keep talking, about the horrible prophecy and all the ways it will impact their lives. Mostly, they speak of their little boy, and how they’ll keep him safe.

“I told Alice we’d meet up sometime this week,” James says, “to discuss this awful mess our lives have turned into. I was so happy to think our Harry might have a friend in Frank and Alice’s boy but now they’re both starting out with a larger-than-life target strapped to their backs.”

“Christ, I know. It feels like every time anything good happens, the universe and Lord Moldywart conspire to kick us in the shin as hard as they can. War’s pretty shit, isn’t it?”

James can’t help but laugh at his wife’s pragmatism. War was shit, there was no better way to say it. “Yeah, it is,” he replies, “but we’ll make it work, won’t we?”

Neither of them knows how, of course, but there’ll be time to figure it out in the morning, and the weeks thereafter. They’d need to leave, go into hiding, probably, but there’ll be time later for those decisions. What matters now is that they’ve got each other, and that they’ll face whatever may come, and that they’ll tackle it to the ground, together.


End file.
